


Draco, Harry, & Kissing in the Rain

by onlykatelyn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Kissing in the Rain, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 07:55:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19741423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlykatelyn/pseuds/onlykatelyn
Summary: What starts out as a petty argument quite possibly changes the rest of Draco Malfoy’s life.





	Draco, Harry, & Kissing in the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> There are mentions of abuse and anxiety in this short Drabble, but I promise it’s nothing but fluff in the end. <3
> 
> This was very cathartic for me to write. Also, it was heavily inspired by the song “That’s The Way I Loved You” by Taylor Swift.

Harry ducked sideways, narrowly missing the TV remote that was hurled angrily toward his face.

“Draco, what the fuck!? Calm down!”

The blonde was visibly shaking across from him. “Don’t tell me to calm the fuck down! I have every right to be upset!” Another object from the living room table was pelted in his direction. For the second time that day, Harry hastily lunged downward.

“Can’t we talk about this? Like goddamned adults?” He spat, stupid as ever, almost begging in all of his naivety to push every last one of Malfoy’s buttons.

“Talk about what? About how you’d rather be with Ginny goddamned Weasley? Or Cho Chang? Or any of the other fan girls that send you owls at every fucking hour of the day?”

“It was ONE letter! From a FRIEND!” Harry stomped a foot forward, refusing in all of his stubbornness to back down. Regardless of the consequences.

This was how their arguments would unfold: Harry’s genuine obliviousness to any underlying issue would result in his own defiance to anything Draco had to say.

And Draco Malfoy’s uncanny ability to run on nothing but emotion would drag Harry to his wit’s end, all but pulling his own hair out. There was no logic here. No, the methodical reasoning of Hermione Granger was long gone from this room.

Draco was angry. And when he was mad, he was like fire.

“Did it ever cross your mind that maybe I want friends, Harry? That maybe I would like to receive suspicious letters from someone else in the middle of the night?”  
His tone was heavy with the escalation of their argument.

“It was at 2 o’,clock in the afternoon, Draco! That hardly means we’re sleeping together.” Harry’s palm was thrust forward in a frustrated animation of his rebuttal.

“I wouldn’t put it past her. You are the Savior of the Wizarding world. I’m sure she’d love to get into your pants.”

“You’re being fucking ridiculous. And petty. And-“ he ducked once more- “quit throwing things at me!”

Harry was noble, but Draco wasn’t above deceit. And when he was hurt, the untamed Dragon all but broke loose. The worst part was, he couldn’t control it. It was a beast, a ball of anxiety and insecurity wrapped up into one strong defense mechanism at the center of his chest.

And it ruled everything.

He loved Harry. He loved every ounce of that raven haired twat. He loved the way he swirled his tea with a Muggle spoon instead of his wand. The way he drooled on the side of his pillow after a long day’s work. The way his lips pulled upward at the edges when he’d tell one of those ridiculously unfunny made up jokes of his...

He would never be good enough. Harry deserved so much more than he could ever be. An ex-Death Eater, narrowly escaping Azkaban thanks to testimony from the Savior himself. A selfish whirlwind of emotion that refused to keep itself in check.

He deserved someone like Ginny, whose level-headed continuity was an unending source. She wouldn’t yell like this, or throw bratty temper tantrums when she felt threatened. No, she’d take him by the hands, and pull him close...

He’d enjoy it. The mundane reality that was settling down with a witch. They’d have a bunch of red-headed spawns, and they’d have play dates with their cousins...

Draco was an empty seed. A dud. A dead end. Dry and unyielding. A... a failure.

Draco cocked his head wordlessly, tears surfacing at that thought. He was no better than his father. No better than the scum of the earth.

“Now, can you quit being fucking crazy and talk to me?” Harry asked. His voice was calm, and that was the worst part. How chill he could be, when Draco was drowning for reasons he didn’t even quite understand himself.

“Crazy? That’s it. Don’t fucking talk to me. I’m done.” The words were venom, straight from the reptile’s mouth. The beast was awake and in full action. With that, Draco turned on one foot and stomped out of the door.

Harry remained fixed to the floor, unable to follow.

***

It was raining. Of course it was fucking raining when he’d decided to walk out in a poor attempt at making a statement.

That was what he got, after all. Isn’t this what he deserved? For lacking the ability to keep the monster in check?

He didn’t even try to avoid it; instead, he sat down as the rain began to pound harder. It drenched his hair, his shirt, Even his shoes and socks. He was miserable.

He shivered, refusing to go back inside. He didn’t want to speak to Harry- it was easier this way. It was better to build a wall- to feed the monster- than it was to walk back inside.

Goddamnit, why? Why couldn’t he lay down his pride, stand up, stomp through the front door and tell him that he fucking loved him?

Because, what good would it do? Harry would probably just call him crazy again.

And, suddenly, as a bolt of lighting lit up the sky... Draco was crying. There was thunder, and wind, and he was soaked to the bone... and he sobbed. Because he wasn’t good enough. Because Harry deserved better. Because this time, what if he really had ended it all?

Harry would leave. They all leave eventually. His father left. His mother refused to protect him from the man that abused him most.

And now, he could barely pull himself together.

And that wasn’t Harry’s fault, but it also wasn’t something Draco could change. It was a never ending cycle, and, just as the rain fell from the sky, he would battle his own self destruction.

But what if there was something to break the cycle?

What if there was a sword that he could use to slay the dragon? Once and for all?

A dozen cars must’ve passed by at this point, and Draco pondered how every one of them was probably wondering what kind of idiot would sit outside during a thunderstorm. He sighed at his own relentless ability to put himself down before gazing up at the sky. He was alone, but hardly lonely. Every rain drop was here to keep him company.

This was what he deserved.

“Draco?”

The voice snapped him from his reverie, a stark contrast to the sound of the pouring rain.

And there was Harry, standing, quickly becoming as much of a soppy mess as he was.

Draco was lost for words, caught in confusion. Why had he followed him? Hadn’t he done a fine job of pushing him away?

“I’m sorry I called you crazy. You’re not crazy!” He yelled over the pounding thunder, pressing forward with another step.

Draco wasn’t sure if his tears were visible, or obvious at all, but something in him didn’t care. He was done with feeling pathetic. He needed a win. An out. An answer.

“You really would be better off with Ginny Weasley!” He called, the wind whipping his hair, and it was a miracle that he didn’t choke on the words as they escaped his mouth.

“No I fucking wouldn’t! Jesus, Draco.” He took another step forward, closing the distance between them. “You’re fucking beautiful, and amazing. And the only thing I want for the rest of my days. You think I want that life? The suburban, family dream? Ha!” He paused with a sarcastic laugh. “I want to fight with you, Draco. I want to yell and scream and dodge TV remotes with you. I want to spend the rest of my life convincing you that you are good enough, if that’s what it takes. Although you ARE way out of my league, Draco.”

“You’re kidding, right?” He laughed dryly. “You saved the fucking world, Harry. You saved me. And all I was was a coward. I didn’t do the right thing. I don’t deserve you.”

“You did what you had to do to save yourself from your father. And I don’t blame you for that for one second.” Harry’s eyes were genuine and full of a vivid green honesty that he could not refute.

“You are my world, Draco. Even when you’re trapped and lash out. Even when you think I’m your father, and you start to panic. Even when you convince yourself that I’m cheating on you, though I’d die before that happened.” He took Draco’s hands, clasping them as the rain poured down.

“I will never give up fighting, Draco. With you or for you. I’m done with the petty little arguments. This is it. We’re in this, together. For the long haul. Are you with me?”

The dragon loosened its grip. Draco felt his stomach soften.

All he could manage was a nod, insufficient as it seemed.

“We’re going to fail, Draco. We’re going to make mistakes. This won’t be our last dispute.” He gazed down at their hands, then into eyes that were as silver as the clouds pouring down above them.

“But I don’t want anyone but you. Not now, not ever. I don’t want rational. I want insane. I want to stand out here screaming at you in the goddamned rain. I want-“

But he was cut short by Draco fervently pressing his lips onto his. There they were, in the middle of what might as well have been a hurricane. And instead of running, seeking refuge in the nearest shelter... they danced in the rain.

Draco was fire, whipping and breathing with a passion so bright it could’ve been fury. But it wasn’t. It was burning hot red against the beast, lighting and catching until it was consumed by flames. Releasing the toxicity that seeped from every dark corner of its being. It growled, and scratched, and fought for redemption, but all that was left was Harry.

The taste of his lips, warm against his mouth. The striking contrast against the chilling rain. The freedom that came with each movement of their tongues as they danced.

The Dragon was silenced. And it was no more.

And in its place was something more whole. A tingling sensation, a fluttering of wings against his belly. It was beating, and flying free. It was a promise, full and complete and blocking out any and all insecurity. It was freedom; liberation. It was love.

And it almost saved him. But in the end, as he tugged Harry into an embrace, he vowed to save himself. To finish the job.

For himself, because he deserved better than his father. For Harry, because he promised to love him regardless. For the rain, pouring continuously around them and washing everything clean.

And, perhaps most importantly, for the feeling that was evading all darkness within him.

For love.


End file.
